So… this morning I dropped my kids off at middle school and then headed back in the direction of my house. The road usually takes me past my town supermarket in the tiny downtown that has like the 3 stores everyone in my town goes to. Except today, there was all kinds of lights-flashing craziness and no getting by. I drove to another street and wondered. It was too soon after the Boston bombing for a big huddle of flashing police cars to not feel extra scary.
And then all the town moms started blowing up my Facebook feed: some nut had carjacked a cab in New York City and had driven it over the bridge. We are the first non-highway exit after the bridge, so a lot of people think they can get lost in our town. Alas, this guy’s exit strategy apparently involved wedging his car in front of my supermarket and the lamp post. That supermarket is on the corner where the grade school is; 10 minutes later and that corner would have been swarming with kids. Had it not been quite so chilly this morning, my kids might have been walking to school past there right at the moment this guy jumped the stolen cab onto the sidewalk. I bought low-sodium turkey there yesterday, people, and that’s my bank across the street. Had my Red Bull addiction been in high gear this morning, I might have been walking into the market right at the same time this guy pulled off his spectacularly stupid stunt.
In the general scheme of things, in a world filled with drones and famines and other big things, this is a very little thing. But when the craziness of the world wedges in to your otherwise ho-hum everyday life, it’s disconcerting. For me, it was the tiniest glimpse into what the victims of real tragedies must feel, the shifting ground, the absolute shock.
Full story: NorthJersey.com